


The Journey 2 of 3: One Foot In Front Of the Other

by BuffyAngel68



Series: Losses and Gains [3]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Mild Language, Other, Season 2 spoilers, mild pre-slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-07
Updated: 2011-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-25 19:30:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/273918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuffyAngel68/pseuds/BuffyAngel68
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-epi's and missing scenes from the first half of Season 2 (most with connections in my 'Losses' universe, of course.)   Neal must find a way to move on and rebuild the parts of him Kate took with her. Thankfully, he's not alone...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> In this AU, part of the canon 'two months' was covered by the first story in the 'Journey' trilogy and the rest of the time... I don't know yet, but I'll figure it out. I'm keeping the very start of S2 epi 1, where Peter is questioned, but I choose to have that meeting result in the bargain that gave Neal three weeks to recover. (see Journey 1/3) Neal never went back to prison.

Rating: FRT -- FRM // will vary by chapter, but gradually more intense and involved m/m between Peter and Neal.  
Disclaimer: Don't own the pretty gentlemen and ladies and I haven't made fundage off this piece of fiction. Sue me, and you'll get a bunch of tie-dye t-shirts, some Cosby LP's, a Partridge Family greatest hits cassette and 53 cents in change. Why bother?

 

\----------------------------------------------

ONE DAY POST- "WITHDRAWAL" :

"Neal. My office?"

Phrased as a question, an offer, the words didn't raise Neal's hackles as much as they otherwise could have, so instead of snapping at Peter or resisting, Neal slowly got to his feet and followed his handler into seclusion. Once the young man chose a seat, Peter closed the blinds over the windows and the glass in the door and crouched down in front of Neal. "Hey." He said gently. "How about a progress report, hmmm?"

"You've been with me the past few days. You tell me."

"As much as I want to, I can't be there all the time. C'mon. Just talk to me. A few minutes is all I ask."

Neal hesitated, but eventually he nodded. In response Peter smiled lightly, rose and pulled over another chair. "Okay, go ahead."

"I'm better. Mostly. My focus, concentration... it only stalls out on me once in a while, now."

"You did really well on this last job. Walker never saw it coming when we went back to his place."

Neal snorted faintly.

"I could get to love wiping smug looks off arrogant faces. I wasn't sure I was ready to get back out there, but... I made it."

"Hell, you've barely started the grieving process. It'll be a while yet before you stop wanting to kick ass from here to Jersey and back. You've got full access to the gym downstairs. Free weights, running... you never know what'll help."

"I'm actually hoping there's a driving range in my radius. Hitting that golf ball felt..."

"Cathartic?"

"Yeah. Exactly."

"Obvious that you've played before."

"A long time ago."

"Couldn't have been that long. Your swing was pretty good."

"Muscle memory is a wonderful thing."

"You coming over tonight to work on the statue?"

"Probably."

Peter turned a grim, remorseful expression on his partner.

"Then I need to see."

"No."

"I said I wouldn't let you fade away, damn it, and this is part and parcel of that commitment. If you want anywhere near my garage *or* those tools... you show me."

Neal scowled and stared Peter down, but the agent didn't relent. Finally, Neal surrendered and rolled up both his sleeves.

"Good... okay... Nothing but the original bandage. No pain from that, right?"

"No." Neal spat, shoving his sleeves back down and re-buttoning the cuffs. "Why can't you just believe me when I say I'll never do it again?"

"Because for years it was your default stress reaction and right now you're in the one of the most stressful situations anyone can go through."

"I didn't have options then. I didn't have June or Mozzie or El or Jones... and most importantly I didn't have you."

Astonished, Peter didn't stop to think about what he should or shouldn't do. Instinctively he reached out and cupped Neal's face, lightly moving his thumb over the cheekbone. The other man, just as amazed and confused, held very still for a few moments then slowly shifted his body away. Realizing what he'd done, Peter was immediately flooded with guilt and he rapidly pulled back, acting as if he'd punched Neal, not petted him.

"Neal... God, I'm sorry..."

"It's okay. I... I don't think I minded. I'm not sure..." Neal replied with an uncertain smile.

"I was just... you kinda floored me, saying that. I try to be there for you, to be a friend. I'm not always convinced you trust it, but giving up's not my style, so..."

Neal's chuckle and grin were more natural and relaxed this time.

"If it was I wouldn't be here."

"True. Are we..."

"We're good, Sundance."

"Thanks, Butch. I'll see you tonight for dinner, then?" Peter asked, standing and replacing the chair.

"What's on the menu?"

"When I left this morning El was planning filet of sole, cheese and cauliflower mousse, Caesar salad and raspberry brownies for dessert."

"Toffee black walnut ice cream?"

"She said she'd pick it up when she hit the grocery store this morning."

Neal's eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up as he also stood, moving toward the door.

"I need to get back to work. Gotta get the reports finished so I can leave on time."

Peter laughed, but his mirth didn't last much beyond Neal's exit. The minute the younger man was back at his desk, Peter picked up the phone.

"Hon... no, he's fine. No more marks, no band-aids. Good. Yeah, he asked about the ice cream, just like you predicted. Look... you remember the talk we said we'd have? The one about what I want Neal to be? It's time..."

\---------------------------------------------------

FORWARD ------->


	2. Chapter 2

Journey 2-- B post "Need To Know"

\------------------------------

Knowing he couldn't leave Neal waiting at the door forever, Peter read El's note one more time, taking deep, slow breaths to calm himself,

My answer to your question is yes. Absolutely, now and forever, yes. In case fate intervenes and things get interesting before I get back, I'm planning to ship home a couple of things that should make it a little easier. Enjoy. Just don't forget that I'm as much a part of this as the two of you so you better save something for me. (and I don't mean what'll be arriving from Fed Ex.)  
Love you, hon,  
El >

then folded it carefully and slid it into a nearby drawer as he moved to let his protege in.

"Hey. C'mon in. Sorry dinner won't be gourmet, tonight. After all these years with El you'd think I would've picked up more than how to call for takeout, but..."

"No problem. I understand. Your passions are intellectual, hers are soulful. It's why you two make such a good match.." Neal replied as he strolled into the dining room behind his mentor. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the spread laid out on the table. "Wow. This is takeout? I was thinking pizza or Chinese..."

"I was in the mood for Italian. You're okay with that, right? I mean, you loved El's cacciatore..."

"I did. Italian is great, Peter, really. I'm just realizing I may have underestimated you." Neal told him, grinning slyly. A moment later he strode forward and delicately selected a steaming slice of garlic bread, laying it on a paper napkin before lifting it to his mouth. "Mmmm.... oh, my God. That's amazing." He praised once he'd swallowed the bite. "This can't possibly be takeout..."

"El's in San Fran until tomorrow. She shipped home some sourdough and e-mailed a set of instructions that even I couldn't screw up. Wine?"

"Yes, please." Neal said, taking a seat to finish the bread. Peter poured him half a glass and, as usual, Neal took considerable time appreciating it before he took his first sip. "Very nice Shiraz."

"I like it." Peter told him, settling in with his own serving of the dark, aromatic wine. "So... the high school thing."

"Peter..."

"You can't think I'll just let you toss out something like that and not wanna talk about it later."

"I tried. High school... didn't work for me."

"You were too old in every way but your actual age." Peter guessed. "Not easy, I'll concede that."

"Hmmm. It sounds trite, yeah... but they just didn't understand me. Nobody got it, especially the adults. Most of them were blind and deaf, and the ones who did catch a glimpse of the truth..."

"... didn't know what to do about it."

"Exactly. No surprise I gave up."

"You got your GED at some point."

"Under a false name. Unofficial... but that's not why I did it, so who really cares?"

"You do, I guarantee it."

Neal laughed and smiled thinly.

"Wrong. I was proving something to myself. Nothing more."

"Uh-huh. If it's so trivial, why not go back and whip through it again under your own name? Just for fun."

"I don't know."

"Think about it?"

"Yeah... we'll see. I have a lot to deal with right now, Peter..."

"We both do. Serious stuff can wait, though. Let's dig into this feast before it goes ice cold."

The pair ate and talked for forty-five minutes or so, sipping wine and lightly ragging on each other as they usually did. When he realized neither one of them had refilled their plate or glass for a good while, Peter rose and gathered both his dishes and Neal's. The younger man stood as well, but Peter verbally waved him off.

"I can help, Peter..."

"Nah. You sit. I'm just gonna put these in the sink and grab dessert. I won't be long."

"I've gained five pounds as it is."

"Trust me, this you'll be able to handle."

A few minutes later he returned and placed the promised treat in front of Neal, who instantly recognized the two small, individually wrapped squares Peter had gifted him with.

"Ghirardelli. El strikes again." Neal observed, closing his eyes and favoring Peter with a pleased smile as he liberated and slowly consumed one of the decadent tidbits. "Oh... quality milk chocolate and caramel. It doesn't get much better than that."

Peter flushed slightly at the ultra-rare expression of undisguised bliss on Neal's face. His reaction forced him to look down for a few seconds and scramble for some kind of response that wouldn't reveal how Neal had affected him.

"Hey, chocolate is the other thing San Francisco is famous for."

"There is a third, actually..."

"True, but we both hate Rice-a-Roni."

"I was thinking about the cable cars, but I'll accept your answer. I'm taking the rest of my dessert out to the garage with me." Neal said, getting to his feet once more.

"Before you go... can I ask something?"

"I reserve the right not to answer... but go ahead."

"I have two questions, actually. Diana told me about the hotel room... that you did a beautiful sketch behind one of the paintings. If I asked..."

"Beautiful. She said that?"

Easily picking up on the powerful vulnerability beneath the casual surface of Neal's response, Peter moved a step closer to him.

"Her exact words. So would you? Not behind our artwork... but as a part of it."

Brows slightly furrowed, Neal stared deeply into the other man's eyes. Peter held his gaze boldly, even though he was uncertain what his friend was searching for and, at the same time, afraid he wouldn't find it.

"Okay. Any requests?"

"Nope. Your choice. Other than forgetting I ever had a mustache."

"Aw, c'mon..."

"No mustache." Peter ordered with mock sternness. Abruptly, something inside him whispered that if he touched Neal again, exactly as he had in the office, the result would be very different, but fear tried to swamp that tiny voice. Fiercely denying the negative emotions, the suspicious mindset that his job forced on him, Peter reached out anyway. To his amazement, his first instinct was proven right as Neal momentarily pressed his cheek against Peter's hand then eased back a few steps.

"Neal..."

"I'm gonna go... work on the statue. If I get in a groove and it's late when I stop..."

"... the sofa's yours."

"Thanks. I'll have that sketch for you in a few days, alright?"

"Yeah. Take your time. Whenever."

Neal turned and headed out to the garage. Peter dropped heavily into the chair the other had just vacated and spoke to his beloved wife, hoping against hope that she might hear him, even across the miles currently separating them. "It's working, El. God help all three of us... I think it's really working."

\--------------------------

FORWARD --------------->


	3. Chapter 3

Journey 2 C : post-'Copycat Caffrey'

\------------------------------------

A RESTAURANT NOT FAR FROM JUNE'S :

Neal gazed around as he entered, absorbing the decor and the style of the people seated at the tables, before he moved in and joined Peter.

"Nice place." He commented as he took a seat.

"You haven't been here? It's less than a quarter mile from your place."

"A lot of places fit that description, Peter. It was on my list."

"Alex got off alright?"

"As far as I know. I watched her cab drive away. Thanks for that, by the way. As long as she sticks with the plan... she should be safe for a while."

"I really hope so." Peter replied quietly, eyes glued to the spot where he gripped his beer glass. Neal sighed inwardly.

"You don't bear any responsibility for Kate."

"Of course I do. I let everything get out of hand. My lack of focus put her in that situation..."

"No." Neal countered forcefully, leaning forward. "Fowler did that. *I* did that."

"But..."

"Damn it, Peter, you were focused enough to find me and try to stop me from getting on the plane. After the explosion, you had the presence of mind to put aside the shock you must've been in and make sure I'd be okay. Trust me, *if* any mistakes were made... what you've done for me the last few months more than made up for them."

Peter flushed briefly, produced a wan smile and sipped his beer.

"Not finished yet."

Neal took his turn at having color momentarily fill his cheeks, but swiftly hid behind his menu when he felt the tell-tale warmth.

"So what are we eating?"

"I don't know about you, but after today I need a thick steak and at least two more of these." He said, taking another sip. "You, uh... you liked being up there in front of that class. I could see it when you came back."

"Oswald thought he could throw me off by stroking my ego. I played along."

Peter's grin slid toward mischievous.

"But you liked it."

"Maybe." Neal finally conceded, a light smile appearing on his face as well.

"You'd make a great teacher. The Bureau would pay for your degree... if you wanted that."

"I told you..."

"Yeah, I know. Sorry I pushed."

"No, it's just... I'm not the world's greatest example. No one would ever let me teach kids."

"I wasn't thinking about them."

Neal looked up, his menu slowly lowering as he contemplated the point Peter seemed to be making.

"You're saying... are you crazy? The odds of the FBI making me an instructor are even worse than me getting in as faculty at a regular school."

"Not according to Hughes. He's mentioned it a few times. He thinks once we get your trust issues resolved and your parole is over, the New York office could have an Art Crimes division that'd rival Washington... if you agree to take a leadership role. Part of your duties would include C.A.E."

"Continuing Agent Education? Peter... I'd never be accepted."

"The positive track record you're building up in White Collar says otherwise." Peter told him, taking another swallow of beer, wiping his mouth with his napkin and rising to his feet. "I'm gonna go wash my hands, just to be safe. If the waitress comes back, order me another beer."

He moved around the table, pausing by Neal's side and laying an easy hand on the younger man's shoulder. After a brief squeeze, he tried to move on to the men's room, but Neal's hand came up and held Peter in place. "What?" the agent asked softly.

"I... wow."

Annoyed with himself, unaccustomed to not having the right word exactly when he needed it, Neal frowned, cleared his throat and tried again. "I may not always act like it.... but I'm fully aware how incredibly lucky I am to be here. If you hadn't showed up at that airstrip when you did... if you hadn't fought to give me time to recoup and pull it together... Thank you for believing in me, Peter."

Peter glanced at his hand, the tingles and mild shocks he was experiencing causing both anxiety and joy at the same time. He had only felt the reaction once before.

"Before that day... I hadn't cried, really cried, in a couple of years."

Neal tensed and bore down on Peter's hand.

"When?"

"The second time you went to prison. I broke down that night, thinking about all you had to offer... and wondering how long it would take for the brutality of that place to rip your gifts out of you and destroy them. I do believe in you, Neal. I absolutely do. If you can just find it in you to do the same for me... to trust that if I ask hard questions or check your tracking data or make you roll up your sleeves, it's to be sure you didn't escape that bomb just to go up in flames some other way. If you can do that, I know everything will turn out alright."

Reluctantly, gradually, Peter disengaged and began walking toward the rest rooms again. Neal dropped his hand to the table and laid the other over it to help stop the faint trembling. Then he reached across the table, snagged Peter's beer and downed what remained in the glass.

\------------------------------------

FORWARD ------->


	4. Chapter 4

Journey 2 D : post : "By The Book"

\--------------------------------------------

SIDEWALK PATIO OF A SMALL BAR: THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON

Peter approached the small table with atypical energy, curiosity quickening his pulse. As he sat down across from his young charge, Neal grinned, reacting to the nearly tangible sparks in his handler's eyes.

"So? Where is it?" Peter demanded "C'mon, you said you'd have it. Show me, already."

"Relax. I just got here and I need a glass of wine."

Peter studied Neal closely.

"Uh-uh, you wanna play a game."

"What? No I don't, Peter."

"I see through you like looking out a window, remember? What's the scam? What do I have to do to get my sketch?"

Neal flushed and his gaze dropped as he mumbled a reply. Now Peter was grinning as well. "Didn't quite get that. One more time?"

"I said... the Perfect Exchange."

Peter's smile slowly became a little more calculating and his eyes narrowed a bit.

"Depends who we're running it on."

"Nobody. It's just you and I."

Now the lightness began to wane in Peter's expression. In spite of El's enthusiastic approval, he was still having doubts about pursuing this tease he'd started with Neal and he could see the other man was even more uncertain. Of late, his heart, mind and libido tended to gang up on the lanky FBI agent in Neal's presence, as they were doing at that moment, but he fiercely tuned out all three. If anything was going to happen, the choice absolutely had to be mutual and Neal had to be fully aware that it was.

"Mmmm. Okay... so what are you asking for in return?"

"I, uh... I don't know yet."

"Can you look at me?"

"Not until my face goes back to its normal color."

"Looks fine from here."

"Peter..."

"Not a single snide remark, I swear. Look at me?"

Eventually, Neal raised his head. "Better. Now... tell me what you want for the sketch."

Instead of responding verbally, Neal cleared his throat, reached under his chair and brought up a small art portfolio then rose to his feet and moved off, heading around the side of the building. At first, Peter merely watched him walk away, wondering what the young man was thinking, but swiftly realized he'd never get his answer if he didn't follow. He found Neal waiting for him a few feet down the alley between the bar and the neighboring business. "Neal?"

"I'm just playing by the rules."

Peter paused, going over what the other man had told him about how this particular exercise ran.

"Right. Neutral locale, business hours... wait, you said the exchange should be public.  
Are you sure..."

"Public doesn't mean people within five feet of us at all times. Anyone walking by could see... so we're good."

"As long as you feel safe. Security is key, right?"

"I'm fine."

Though he'd never reveal it and knew Peter would deny it until Armageddon had come and gone, Neal could easily see past his handler's masks as well. The uncertainty and worry he found in him now prompted Neal to be the one to extend a hand this time, lightly wrapping his fingers around Peter's wrist as he repeated his last statement with a bit more emphasis. "I'm fine."

"Yeah... but you still don't know what to ask for, do you?"

"No."

"Then... can I make an offer? Is that in the rules?"

Neal nodded slowly. Peter filled his lungs, held onto the air for a few seconds then released it by degrees, hoping to keep internal tremors from gravitating to the outside, where Neal would see. "My proposal... is a kiss for the sketch. Do you accept?"

Fighting his own private earthquake, Neal gazed at Peter and prayed the eagerness and hope that were consuming him didn't show on his face.

"Comes down to trust."

"I won't try to out-play you. I won't just do enough to get what I want and then walk away. My solemn vow."

Neal's grip tightened and he nodded once more, minutely, but enough for Peter to understand that he was being given consent. Moving out of profile, Peter placed his left side against the brick outer wall of the bar. Neal turned to face him, still fiercely clutching the other man's arm.

"If we think about it too much..." he chuckled brokenly

"I hear that. Let's just..."

Gently, but with a speed neither one anticipated, their lips met. Peter couldn't bear to close his eyes, finding himself oddly compelled to note every shift of emotion on Neal's face. Only half aware, he eased the hand Neal was attached to around the younger man's shoulder and onto his upper back and the former con-man finally loosened his hold, allowing his hand to slide inch by inch up to Peter's shoulder, where his fingers clutched once again. Neal's tongue darted out briefly, but some tiny, rational part of Peter, not yet overwhelmed by want and need, understood that they weren't ready for that. He licked Neal's bottom lip in reply, just for a moment, but didn't open up enough to let the exploration continue.

A moment later, they broke apart, panting faintly into each other's warm, rose-tinted faces.

"Well? Payment in full?" Peter asked, smiling lightly.

"I... I think I owe you a refund."

"Nah. Keep the change." Peter assured him as the handle of the portfolio was pressed into his hand. He pulled back a little more, opened the case and stared at the sketch inside.

"Oh. Oh, wow. Neal... I mean I knew you could, but... this is amazing. *You're* amazing. Thank you."

"No problem."

"Yeah, like I'm letting you get away with that. C'mon, let's go get that glass of wine, huh? I think we both deserve it."

"Shiraz?"

Peter laughed and moved back out to the tables by the sidewalk. Neal trailed behind, pondering, for the first time in a very long time, what happiness and peace were supposed to feel like and how he was supposed to tell if that was what he was experiencing. He thought it was, but he just couldn't be sure and it still wasn't in him to ask anyone else and simply believe what they told him.

\-----------------------------------------

FORWARD ---------->


	5. Interlude

PAUSE : INTERLUDE: THREE MORNINGS LATER

"Neal? Peter's here. He's getting a little impatient."

"I'm sick."

June studied him carefully from a distance, then moved closer.

"No. I don't think you are."

"Tell him I am, I'm begging you..."

"What's going on, Neal?"

"I just can't face Peter today. Please, June..."

Surrendering to the plaintive, wounded tone, she touched his shoulder briefly.

"I'll be right back."

When she returned, she perched lightly on the edge of his bed.

"He's gone. I was asked to tell you that if you're not actually ill, it had better be a *very* speedy recovery."

Neal grunted but, otherwise, refused to reply. "That's not nearly good enough and you know it. Talk to me, young man."

Groaning, Neal finally sat up and faced the beautiful woman who had quickly become one of his dearest friends.

"I have to?"

"You have to."

Neal gazed intently at her, clearly struggling, then rose and began pacing and gesturing as he talked.

"It's ridiculous... this never happens, not to me. I don't know why I couldn't see it coming. I always see the train in plenty of time to find a way off the tracks..."

"See what coming, sweetheart?"

"Him..." Neal responded cryptically, pausing for a moment then resuming his distraught travels. June straightened immediately, her pulse speeding up.

"Him? Is that horrid Garrett Fowler causing trouble again?"

"No... not this time. It's not that kind of problem."

"Then what is it?"

Neal hesitated again, battled successfully to slow his breathing then turned to face June.

"Peter. It's Peter."

"Has he done something to hurt you? Said something harsh that you didn't earn?"

"I wish. That I could handle. It's the opposite."

"Oh. Of course. I wondered... thought perhaps..."

"All my life, if there was anything I wanted, especially if I wasn't supposed to have it... I just stepped up, grabbed it and walked away. No guilt, no problems. Now this huge prize is sitting right in front of me... and I can't make the move! I could always feel it, you know? The special ones called to me... like they were absolutely *begging* to be mine. I've never been able to resist. Never wanted to or had to. Now that call, the pull... is making me *crazy*! I'm holding back with all my strength, but I can't keep it up forever..."

"Because you'll do anything, including sacrifice yourself, before you hurt Elizabeth."

Neal abruptly halted in his tracks, his back to June. As she watched every muscle in his body go rigid, she laid a hand against her chest as if the ache in her heart was physical, not flowing from her soul. "It wasn't hard to figure out, sweetheart. As much as you might wish otherwise... neither are you."

"God... if you saw it, so did she..." Neal murmured, stalking quickly to his closet and hauling down a duffle bag. June leapt to her feet, moved to his side and grabbed his arm.

"Over my dead body! Not after all the work you've done to build a life here..."

"You don't understand! I have to leave before I can't control it anymore."

"Neal..."

"I won't go back to what I was doing, I swear. I'll play it straight, Peter won't have a reason to chase me or a way to find me..."

"I know you haven't forgotten about your probation. He'll hunt you down, no matter what."

'Okay, maybe, but at least Elizabeth won't hate me. I'll have that to hold onto."

"She could never feel that way about you. I don't know a great deal about her, but what I've seen tells me she hardly knows what the word hate means. Besides, you've told me again and again that you feel as if you're becoming a part of their family. If you just run, if you vanish without so much as a goodbye note... don't you think that will hurt her, too?"

"Not as much, trust me. If she finds out I acted on what I'm thinking... what I want..."

"Then talk to her *before* anything happens. Talk to both of them."

Neal dropped his chin and the duffel, paled and moved back over to collapse on the bed without responding. June followed slowly. "Oh no. Neal, darling... tell me you haven't. You said a moment ago..."

"We didn't... haven't. Not the irreversible "it"."

"Tell me. What happened first?"

"We were talking alone in his office. He keeps close tabs on me since... I told him for the hundredth time that I know I'll make it as long as I have my friends and him at my back. He... he touched my face. It was just a gesture, I get that, but it left us both so confused."

"Not a slap, not a pat..."

"No. A hand curled around my cheek. That's all. The second time was about a week later. I've been working nights, doing a sculpture in his garage. He said since I was coming over we should have dinner first. The minute I saw the table, it was obvious he'd put effort into setting things up... but I didn't call him on it."

"Kind of you to let him have his moment."

"Yeah, I guess. Anyway, after we finished, I got up to go do some work and he reached out again. This time... this time..."

"You weren't confused anymore."

"God, I wish I was. I don't know what to do, June. I always have the answers, always. Now..."

"Well, bolting is out of the question. For one thing, I care for you as deeply as the Burkes do and believe me, if you even *consider* taking off, you'll find yourself over my knee getting wailed on until you can't sit down *or* stand up. Are we clear?"

Easily able to tell that she meant every word, Neal turned a surprised gaze and a soft grin on the woman sitting next to him.

"As crystal."

"Good. Now tell me the rest."

"June..."

"Best if you get it all out now."

Neal sighed and flopped back on the bed.

"I told you we ran the Perfect Exchange to rescue the girl Moz had such a crush on."

"You did."

"Well... what I left out was my incredible lack of judgment afterward. For no sane reason I can figure out, I shoved my common sense into a tiny room somewhere at the bottom of my brain, padlocked the door and... and I kissed Peter."

A slow, amused smile blossomed on June's lips as she ran through the basics of the routine Neal had named.

"Keep both sides in check and on track... trust is essential for a successful handoff... a public place during business hours... My God, how utterly romantic!"

Neal groaned and covered his eyes, but June, now thoroughly delighted, continued the pursuit. "Did he engage in the game? How did he react?"

"You are incorrigible..."

"Yes I am and proud of it, now tell me absolutely everything."

"It was just a kiss!"

"Your first! First kisses are always a disaster or breathtaking magic, rarely anything in between. Either way, I want to know!"

Neal turned onto his side, expression lost and brooding, voice quiet and unbearably sad.

"He put a hand on my back, he leaned into it... and he never really closed his eyes. He let me see everything he was feeling. When we finally came up for air... he thanked me and told me he thinks I'm amazing..."

"It sounds perfect."

"It was... and I can never have it again."

"You can't know that, sweetheart. Before you throw up your hands and surrender, do what I told you and go to Elizabeth."

"How about I just throw up?"

"Cute. Not funny, but very cute."

"Well this isn't funny! You were right, the two of them mean so much to me, now. If she's angry, if she orders me out of their lives... no. Moving on will be easier if I never find out what she would've said."

"Oh, my dear... you are so wrong you don't know how wrong you are. Please, listen to the voice of almost bitter experience, darling. A long time ago I faced my own terrible choice; see for myself what Byron's world was like and whether I could live in it... or be without him forever. If I hadn't taken the risk, if I'd played it safe, I would've lost out on the best years and the best *man* any woman could ask for."

"But..."

"Shhh. All this emotion has wrung you out." She interrupted, gently rubbing large, slow circles on his back. "Try and get a little more sleep, alright? Your dreams will show you the truth, just you wait and see..."

\------------------------------------------  
RESUME: FORWARD ------------>


	6. 5

Journey 2 E : post- "Unfinished Business"

\-----------------------------------------

ONE DAY LATER: PETER'S OFFICE

"Sarah told me you could. I wanna see if it's true."

"Peter..."

"Hey, El is the queen of the house. You don't say no to her without risking penalties no man wants to suffer."

"Now who's the con-man? Elizabeth's an angel."

"Until she's denied something she's decided she really wants... and she wants you to make soup."

"But it's been at least a couple of years since I've done it..."

"Okay, so you fumble around a little to start with. I know you haven't forgotten." Peter urged, moving close to Neal's left side and lowering his voice. "Another exchange, is that what you want, hmmm? The last one was more successful than I could've hoped, so... I'm totally open to trying it again."

Neal grinned, flushed and swiftly turned away from the open office door before he quietly responded.

"I wouldn't mind that myself... but not necessary. Call El and tell her mushroom orzo soup is on the menu for dinner tonight."

"Who said anything about necessary? Now that I know how you kiss, you could offer me a wad of pre-chewed gum and a nickel and I'd give you almost anything you asked for."

"Really?"

"Almost. I did say almost. By the way... I did apologize for what we got you into this time, didn't I?"

"You don't have to. It's what I'm here for. I'm supposed to back you up... do what you ask so the bad guys go away."

Peter closed the door, shut the blinds and shades again and took Neal's hand.

"No. If I'd known what Mr. Black actually was I never would've put you in that position."

"Peter, please..."

"So you know how to handle guns, how to break one down and re-assemble it. You handled the situation with courage and incredibly fast thinking. The problem is that it shouldn't have happened in the first place... and I regret what you went through."

"You can't think like that, damn it." Neal murmured in response. "I know you, Peter. The next time I end up in danger it'll eat you up more, and more the time after that. Pretty soon you'll start rationalizing that I don't need to go out there at all. That's not the deal I made with the Bureau. I do what they need me to... you have my back and let me do it. Anything less and they could rip up the papers I signed and put me away again. Trust me... no assignment from the FBI could possibly be as scary or dangerous as prison."

Peter's breath hitched faintly as he used his grip on Neal's hand to pull the younger man against him. He longed to put his deepest feelings into words, to tell Neal how he had agonized over each moment the other spent in darkness or pain, but instinct warned him Caffrey wasn't quite ready and would be frightened into backing off. Instead, Peter told him a less heavy secret.

"I still have every birthday card you sent. Every time another one showed up I thought 'Thank God, he's still alive. There's still a chance to change things... to get him back and show him there's more to a good life than the games and the lies and the running.' It kept me going, kept me hopeful..."

"I'm not giving up, Peter. Not on myself... and not on you." Neal promised, placing a brief, warm peck on Peter's cheek. "Now we, uh... we better fix the blinds before somebody wonders what I'm up to and comes barging in."

"I guess telling them I'm angling for another kiss wouldn't go over too well, would it..."

"Diana might just cheer you on. Jones... I'm not so sure."

"Right." Peter sighed and moved away to open up his office to public view once again.

 

\----------------------

7:45 THAT NIGHT: PETER AND EL'S HOUSE

El sat back in her chair and released a slow quiet breath. The sound spoke of satisfaction and the need for a few hours of solid sleep. She'd expected Neal would only make the soup course, but once he'd arrived and taken a quick peek at her fridge and pantry he'd become inspired and nudged her out of the kitchen, choosing to create the whole meal. In addition to the mushroom soup, he'd ended up presenting them with braised pork medallions in a red wine sauce and lightly steamed broccoli draped with bechamel.

"Neal. That was amazing. I'm letting you take over the kitchen more often. Like once a week."

Neal grinned, ducked his head slightly and wiped his mouth, all to cover any pinkness in his cheeks.

"On one condition. Peter does the dishes."

Peter balled up his paper napkin and gleefully launched it at Neal's head. "Hey!" Neal responded with mock indignation, preparing to fire back his own paper missile. El called a halt to the impending air battle, however, before it could involve the remnants of dinner in front of them.

"Ah-ah. Any escalation and neither of you will get dessert."

Neal's hand lowered instantly. "Better. Neal, help me get things into the kitchen?"

"Sure."

He rose, gathered an armload of plates and silver and followed close behind her. "I was serious about the dishes, you know." He teased as he carefully set his burden down next to the sink.

"The dishwasher's automatic. The only manual labor is scraping and rinsing."

"That, I can manage." He assured her, but before he could begin, she laid her hand on top of his and squeezed lightly, looking intently into his eyes. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Are you alright?"

"Hmmm? I am, yeah. I'm fine."

"No stiff upper lip, Neal. I really want to know. Peter said this case was hard on you."

Neal demurred for a few seconds, but the minute he met her eyes he was swamped by the same desire as always hit him when El asked him such a question; the urge to spill all his secrets, dark or otherwise.

"Guns... they're not my favorite thing in the world, you know that. Anger, fear, frustration, sadness... just apply enough pressure on the trigger and solve all your problems. It's too easy."

El smiled lightly as his words brought an appropriate quote to mind. She avoided trying to imitate the proper voice, though, as she knew one talent she didn't possess was doing impressions.

"Anger, fear... the dark side of the Force are they. Once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny."

"Is the dark side stronger?" he asked, with far more seriousness than she expected. El supplied the proper answer in the same solemn tone.

"No. Easier. More seductive."

"The truth of that scares the hell out of me."

"I know. But we're here for you every minute of every day. If you need a Jedi refresher course to keep fighting the good fight... just reach out." She told him, dropping a momentary, barely-there kiss on Neal's mouth before turning to the fridge to retrieve what was left of a chocolate silk pie she'd made earlier in the week. "Would you grab three small plates for me? They're right above the sink. Oh, and clean forks, too."

When she faced him again, the stunned expression and his sudden inability to create full sentences made her chuckle.

"Wait... it... but you don't... you can't be..."

"What? You thought Peter would get you all to himself? That I wouldn't demand an equal share of the treasure you are? You should know better by now, sweetheart. Plates? Forks?"

"Yeah... I... I'll be right there."

"Don't wait too long. Peter really loves this pie. He'll steal your share in a heartbeat."

As soon as she exited into the dining room, Neal scrambled to pull out his phone and dial home.

"June? How the hell did you know?"

\-------------------------------------

FORWARD -------------->


	7. 6

Journey 2 F: post- "In The Red"

\--------------------------

10:30 A.M. THE FOLLOWING DAY:

Neal rolled his eyes and shifted his cell to his other ear.

"No, I don't wanna talk about it. Moz. No, I'm... because I don't have to. Look, I'm dealing with it fine. Yes, now as opposed to then. Back then I was... I what? Don't say that. Of course I lean on him. He was there when the plane went up, he and El practically... okay, that was uncalled for. I know you've always been there for me, always been my closest fr... Moz. Mozzie, hold up a minute, please. Will you... Hello? Moz?"

Pulling the phone away, Neal closed it with an almost vicious motion and tossed it on his desk. When he saw Peter approaching, he was glad for the distraction, but his relief didn't last very long.

"My office. Five minutes." Peter demanded tersely as he passed.

"Is something wrong? Peter? Crap, why is everybody mad at me today?"

Knowing any delay would only make it worse, Neal rose and jogged up the stairs after his handler. "I'm here. What's up?"

"Close the door."

Neal complied, though reluctantly. He sensed he would have to slog through a little muck this time before any embraces or kisses were forthcoming, if Peter decided to offer them at all. He headed toward a chair, but the other man held up a hand. "Not yet. You'll stand until I get a few straight answers."

"Oookay."

"I know how you passed the polygraph."

"I was telling the truth."

"Half-truth. I assume Mozzie stole the voice recorder?"

Neal flushed slightly, but chose not to respond. "Right. Now about the rest."

"Peter..."

"No. Just... stop, Neal. I knew there was something weird going on, I *knew* it... but I didn't figure it out until I realized where you were standing just before you left to take the test. At the corner of my desk. Where the container of supplies is. I couldn't be sure, though... so I went and checked the office library for a book on common techniques for beating the machine. I got my answer. You stole a push-pin and caused yourself pain to throw off the physical readings. 'Why can't you just believe me when I say I'll never do it again?' Isn't that what you said? Well? Isn't it?"

Neal's face swiftly changed from pink to stark white. Stumbling back, he collapsed into a chair.

"Peter, no. God, it wasn't... I didn't connect it with *that*! It never crossed my mind, I swear. It was a game with Sarah. I just... had to win that round. I'm so sorry..."

His anger draining away gradually, Peter moved out and crouched beside Neal's chair.

"You remember what I told you that night? I said that helping you was a commitment for me. Well, it's the biggest, most important one I've made since I married El. The road you and I seem to be headed down..."

"I get it. I need to commit, too."

"In time I hope you can. Once you're done grieving, however long it takes. That isn't where I was going, though. What I wanted to say is that it's not just about the deal with the FBI anymore... not just about keeping you on the right track for your own sake. I care for you, Neal, and where we're headed... it could end up as a lot more than that. Tell me again you didn't think before you deliberately hurt yourself and look right in my eyes this time."

"I didn't, Peter. I promised you and you know I take promises seriously. The thing is that Sarah's relentless. She'll never believe I've changed... that I've found a strong enough reason. Even a flicker, a trace she could sink her teeth into... I couldn't let that happen. I've used the pain thing before, the pins were right there... it was pretty much instinct."

Peter released a long, slow sigh of relief and grinned slightly, though Neal could still see tension and worry in his eyes.

"Okay... great. Thank you for that, kiddo. Not that I'm happy about how easily that 'instinct' hit you or how fast you gave in... but I can live with it."

"I really am sorry."

"I know. Make it up to me and come to the house tonight?"

Neal grimaced.

"It could be late. Moz needs reassuring."

"That's okay. I'll wait up. What's got Mozzie's tail in a twist?"

"Ummm... you, actually. You know how he is about authority and now that you and I are spending more time together..."

"Ah. Gotcha."

"If I don't show up by eleven, don't bother hanging in, alright?"

"Make it midnight. I can always find something to keep me busy."

Intense gratitude for Peter's unwavering support took over Neal's expression and, in the process of getting up from the chair, he snuck in a discreet kiss. "Thanks for that, too. Now back to work."

"Yes, slave-driver, I hear and obey slave-driver..."

After Neal left, Peter spent several more seconds still in the crouched position next to the chair, mildly shivering. He was uncertain why, until El's comment about animosity and sparks drifted back to him and cleared up his confusion. If he felt like this when the anger had only been on his side of the equation... Shaking his head, Peter rose to his full height and moved back behind his desk, determinedly pushing aside the keen anticipation of where the road might lead for him and for the enigmatic, alluring scoundrel he was falling so hard for.

\----------------------------------

6:30 P.M. :

"Moz? Mozzie, you here, yet?"

"Hmmmph." Came a dissatisfied grunt from deeper in the apartment. Neal strolled over and found his friend slumped in a chair near the windows.

"Hey. I guess we need to talk, huh?"

"Indeed. That bottle of wine I couldn't find... you gave it to the suit."

"Not yet. I've got it safely put aside."

"Yeah, I thought so."

"Moz, I'm allowed to give away *my* wine."

"Not to him!" Mozzie protested, sitting up and twisting around to confront Neal.

"To anybody I choose."

"Choose over me."

"Moz... c'mon."

The smaller man leapt up and got into Neal's face.

"It's too soon! You're a collaborator and a rat and if she were here right now..."

"Yeah, well she isn't. Kate's dead. Honestly... I didn't think I'd ever move on or get over the way I lost her. It took me all this time to figure out that you can't lose something you never really had. She wasn't mine, Moz... not the way I wanted her to be. I was... dreaming. Seeing how Peter feels, what he's been willing to do and sacrifice for me, I know the difference, now."

Mozzie's furious expression softened, just a little.

"You're happy?"

"Getting there. What happened at that airport is still... I don't know. Raw, I guess. But every day it's better. Peter's closing up the hole a little at a time."

Mozzie huffed loudly, but Neal, the only one who could read him reliably, heard a halfhearted step towards tolerance. It was unlikely to ever develop into acceptance, but Neal would take what he could get.

"I want a replacement. The *exact* vintage of the one you're wasting on him."

"Deal. So are we okay?"

"For now. I will be interrogating the suit at some point. He's not even bumping *lips* with my best friend until I'm sure of his intentions."

Neal blushed and swiftly walked away. "Caffrey? You're not saying... Get back here!"

\------------------------------------

FORWARD -------------->


	8. 7

Journey 2 G -- post- "Prisoner's Dilemma"

\-------------------------

THE STREET : THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON:

"Neal...."

"I know. This is the last time, I promise. This one will be right."

"I'm not playing anymore."

"C'mon, anything has to be better than lilies."

Peter hesitated, grimacing slightly.

"Okay, so that one was bad, but it was born out of frustration..."

"Agreed. Now try once more."

"You know what the problem is? Flowers... wrong category all together."

Neal's face lit up.

"You're right... it is."

"Wine?"

"Mmmm... no. Too many choices, too complicated."

"Famous grifters?"

"You're assuming I know names."

"You're saying you don't?"

"Of course I do, but it bugs me when you just assume."

"Artists?"

"That has possibilities... definitely."

"No... I've got it." Peter finally announced, the glow of his smile matching the one Neal had produced a few moments earlier.

"Okay. So give."

'Ghirardelli."

Neal flushed and hid his face, turning his head away from the crowds streaming by them on the sidewalk. Peter was silent for a block or two, wondering if he should say what was on his mind, but eventually he got brave enough to try.

"Can I, uh... can I tell you something?"

"Yeah..."

"I like making you do that."

"What? Blush?"

"It tells me I still have access to the deeper Neal Caffrey... that you're not pulling away or having second thoughts."

The younger man's expression darkened.

"You pull stunts like this last one, I have third, fourth and fifth thoughts."

Peter halted, touched Neal's wrist so he would stop as well and turned the other to face him.

"I did my job. You know better than anybody how often that involves putting everything on the line."

"And If that moment in the alley had never happened, it wouldn't be a an issue, but I have a different perspective, now, Peter! I know what it's like to kiss you... I have this... drive to explore your deepest corners, too... to move in and live there, for God's sake!" Neal hissed, fully aware that they shouldn't be having this argument in public, but unable to stop himself now that he'd begun. "I never worried before, not consciously. Now, suddenly, I do... and I have to wonder how El hasn't gone absolutely crazy."

"She's that strong... and she trusts me that much. She knows I'll move heaven, hell or both at once to get home to her."

Neal's expression swiftly shut down so the two words screaming in his head wouldn't be read, but Peter was too well versed in the silent language of Neal Caffrey not to know what the young man couldn't bear to ask. "Yeah... and now you, too." He whispered. Neal smiled briefly, nodded and turned to keep walking back to the car. Peter gripped his elbow and he paused again. "You know I feel the same way, right? Checking the tracker just makes it harder for me. Seeing where you are... it's not enough to ease my mind, anymore. I'm not there. That's always on my mind, now. Knowing the kind of people you've dealt with and maybe pissed off over the years... someday, something's gonna go wrong and I'll be staring at a screen... when I *should* be with you."

Neal shivered minutely and fought to pull himself together.

"I want a hug so much, right now..."

"People... watching..." Peter forced out past the seemingly baseball sized lump in his throat caused by Neal's quiet admission.

"I know. Damn it."

"Soon. I swear, soon. We, uh..."

"Car. Back to work."

"Right."

Both men continued moving, but Peter never took his hand off Neal's arm. "So how was the museum exhibit?"

\-----------------------------------

FORWARD --------------->


	9. 8 a

Journey 2 H : Triptych --- pre- mid- and post- "Company Man"

\------------------------------

PART 1: PRE-EP : BEDROOM

7:45 P.M.

"Peter, relax. Tonight isn't about seducing him, remember? We've come a long way, but we're not even close to that yet. Tonight is about comfort and helping him believe in us and himself."

"I know, I know. That's not what's bugging me. He's still so skittish, what if..."

"Hey." She warned softly, kissing him. "We said no regrets, didn't we? It has to be his choice, every step of the way."

Hearing a gentle, hesitant knock, El turned Peter by the shoulders and gave him a slight push. "Answer the door."

"Yes, dear." He snarked faintly over his shoulder as he walked. "Hey. Neal. C'mon in." He greeted as he swung the door open.

After another momentary pause, Neal smiled warily and complied. Peter took Neal's small bag and set it aside, and, as he closed all three of them in for the night, responded to what he was seeing in his friend with as much gentleness and reassurance as his own nervous state would allow. "Remember, drinks, dessert and eight hours of sound sleep. That's all this is."

"I know... I know."

"Then let down, okay?" Peter requested, kissing the other lightly on the cheek. "Breathe... and the tension will back off."

Neal gave it a shot, drawing and releasing a long slow breath. It worked better than he'd dared to believe and, smiling gratefully at Peter, he strode in and took a place on the couch. El approached with a squat glass half-full of deep red liquid and Neal hummed in appreciation as he took it, finding it warm to the touch.

"Mulled?"

"Uh-huh. It's chilly out tonight. I thought you'd might need something a little more fortifying than regular wine." She explained as she settled beside him. Neal studied her expression for a few seconds, seemed to find the assent he was searching for and leaned in to drop a light kiss on El's cheek.

"It's great. Thanks."

"Right back at you." She chuckled, eyes widening slightly as she beamed at Peter.

"What's on the schedule for dessert?" Neal asked coyly, drawing her attention back to him.

"A mixed berry crisp with fresh whipped cream."

"There, uh... there wouldn't be any toffee black walnut left, would there?"

"It's possible. Peter?"

"He's behaved himself. Matter of fact, during the Franklin case he was pretty amazing. Bancroft was impressed enough to take him to that museum exhibit he wanted to catch so bad. Yeah, he definitely deserves ala-mode."

"Ice cream it is, then."

"In a while. If that's okay?" Neal requested. "I'd really like to take time to enjoy the wine, first..."

"Oh, of course. I might have a glass myself."

Over the next two hours the trio sipped and ate and talked, slowly winding down from the strains and stresses they had, individually and collectively, experienced over the previous week. Eventually, as she rose to take the bowls and glasses into the kitchen, El produced a discreet yawn. Shifting his gaze from her to Neal, Peter winced as he watched him tense up all over again. When El looked as if she was about to intervene, her husband moved to her side and made sure she continued on to her original destination. Then he dropped onto the sofa.

"You don't believe I have no ulterior motive."

"If you don't, you're a rare breed."

"Okay... maybe, but it's not what you think."

"Peter..."

"How long has it been since you really felt safe? Complete honesty, now."

Neal paled a bit and began studying the fabric on the couch cushions intently.

"I can't remember back that far."

"How many hours of sleep do you usually get?"

"Three or four most nights, but I'm doing fine..."

"You can do better. That's the main reason for inviting you here tonight, for planning this. Being close to you, growing the connection you and I seem to have, now... those are in there too, I won't deny it, but... Hey, you ever hear that saying about home being the place where you can just show up..."

"... and they have to take you in."

"Tonight is about changing that for you. I want... sorry, I hope you can start to see this as a place where you never have to ask to come in or wonder if you'll be welcome... if you belong. You are... and you do."

Neal stroked Peter's face and lightly tangled his fingers in the older man's hair then, gradually, he slumped forward and allowed Peter to embrace him. Returning from loading the dishwasher, El found them still sitting like that. Taking a spot on the other side, she caressed Neal's shoulders and rubbed his back until he slowly sat up.

"C'mon, guys. Time for bed."

Nervous about what might or might not emerge if he tried to speak, Neal simply nodded. Also speechless, to El's great shock, Peter kissed the palm of her hand, stood and lifted her up with him. Then, after retrieving Neal's overnight bag, the two men trailed her up the stairs.

\---------------------------

1 HOUR LATER:

"Neal. Go to sleep, sweetie."

"I'm trying. It's not like I've ever... I mean..."

El's hand slid over his stomach and stilled there, warm and solid, grounding him and driving away a good deal of his anxiety.

"Let me guess. Your mind won't stop babbling at you."

Neal sighed almost inaudibly and shifted a little bit, but not enough to displace the hand that was his primary connection to sanity just then.

"I just don't understand, that's all."

"Details?" Elizabeth asked, suppressing a chuckle.

"This... whatever it is."

"You deserve love and security... to know how it feels to be wanted when it doesn't involve arrest warrants and handcuffs. Plus Peter is crazy about you and for you. He has been for a long time. From the way he described the moment you two had in that alley, I think it goes both ways."

Neal felt heat rushing to his face and grinned lightly.

"Yeah, well..."

Deciding he wasn't about to get any sleep unless he helped answer Neal's questions and calm him down, Peter entered the conversation.

"If I'd offered more, if I'd opened up that kiss...I'm pretty sure we both would've been there 'till the sun went down or the cops hauled us away."

"Maybe."

Peter snorted. Neal relented. "Okay, so you're right. Gloating doesn't become you."

"Not gloating, confirming. If I thought you were feeling pressured or that you didn't really want any of this..."

"You know I do. That kiss should've told you as much. Wanting it isn't the problem."

"Trust." Peter intoned softly.

Neal slowly released a second sigh, but declined to respond otherwise, so Peter continued. "God... if I could wave a stick with a star on the end and instantly restore your faith, I'd do it in a heartbeat, kid. It doesn't work like that."

"Even if magic was real, I wouldn't let you. Too easy."

"Right, you're the one who lives for the challenge. Tougher the better."

"Pot meet kettle. Otherwise you would've given up on me years ago."

Peter now shifted his own hand, laying it over Neal's heart.

"Never. Not then... and absolutely not now. Somehow... I always knew you were worth any effort I had to make."

This quiet, honest statement left Neal speechless, a condition he never thought he'd experience. A moment later he felt heated moisture slipping down his cheeks. Before he could swipe at them, El had kissed the tears away.

"Damn it..."

"Stop, sweetie. It's okay. We all cried at the airport that day... Peter and I sobbed together practically every night for the three weeks you were here. Tears are normal... they're human."

"You... why? Why were you crying?"

"You were slipping away and we didn't know how to pull you back."

"I was so lost. I didn't think I had any reason to stick around."

"Now you know different, right? Now you understand."

"Elizabeth... I..."

"Shhhh. Go to sleep. We're here with you."

"Please..."

"Enough. Just close your eyes... feel your pulse and your breathing slow down. You're safe, Neal... finally safe. That's it."

"There ya go..." Peter added. "Good man. Relax. Nothing to worry about... nothing to stress over. Your mind is quieting down... letting you drift into deep, peaceful sleep."

"L've y'guys..."

"We love you too, sweetie." El echoed then settled in as well. Peter stayed awake an hour or so longer, surrendering easily to an urge to watch over both his first love and his new one. He gazed affectionately at the woman who, it seemed, had always been essential to his life, then shifted his eyes to study Neal, the man he hadn't realized he loved until just recently, but who was gradually stepping into what Peter now acknowledged was his rightful place. They were his home, his foundation and God help anyone trying to pull the three of them apart.

\--------------------------

6:00 A.M.

El, already awake for half an hour, smiled tenderly as she gazed down at Peter and Neal curled close together, both with their heads nearly buried under the blankets. Just enough of the younger man's neck was peeking out to place a kiss on and El couldn't resist.

"Neal. Wake up, sweetie. You have to get to work soon."

She was barely able to suppress a raucous laugh when he rolled over, nuzzled his face into Peter's chest, grunted and mumbled a few half-intelligible words.

"Nnnhhhmm. Don' wanna. Sm'lls w'rm... an' sweet... l'ke a sugar cookie...

The attempt at conversation partially woke Peter as well, who cracked open one eye and directed it blearily up at El.

"D'd someb'dy say cookie?"

"I warned you about showering with my vanilla spice body wash last night." She managed, choking on her held back laughter.

"Mine ran out." Peter reminded her grumpily, trying to sit up. Neal, however, had other ideas and wrapped one arm around him. "Hey, it's okay, kid. Wake up... that's it. Open those pretty blue eyes... there."

"M'rning."

"It sure is. Looks like we might get a decent amount of sun."

"Sun..."

Slowly propping himself up on one hand, Neal twisted to gaze out the window. "It's... the sun's up. How the..."

Turning back to Peter, Neal gazed at him, just for a moment, as if the agent had made the sunrise happen. "I haven't slept like that in... ten years, at least." he admitted, his words saturated with wonder and faint confusion. "You... the two of you... I don't understand."

Peter grinned.

"Repeat after me. I..."

"I..."

"... am not..."

"I am not..."

"... alone anymore."

"I am not alone anymore. But..."

"Nah-ah. Breakfast now, heavy discussion later."

"Can we have cinnamon toast? It sounds weird, I know, but I think I was dreaming about it..."

El finally burst out laughing as she moved back out of the bedroom, tossing her response over her shoulder.

"Anything you want, Neal. Anything you want..."

\----------------------------------

TRIPTYCH PART 2 : HOTEL ROOM ----------------->


	10. 2 H: Hotel Room

MID-EP: THE HOTEL ROOM

"You sure you don't want some? It's incredible." Peter offered, raising his fork and popping a bite of steak into his mouth. "Mmmm. Amazing... totally amazing." He moaned around the morsel of Kobe. Neal watched for a few moments then swallowed harshly. Peter, thinking he knew what the issue was, sliced off another chunk, speared it and held it up close to Neal's lips. "Go on, take it. I know you fibbed about having eaten. You're probably starving and El would shred my ass if I didn't at least *try* to feed you."

Fighting off both the need to close his eyes and the desperate urge to reveal the truth about his distress, Neal realized it was simpler and far less nerve-racking to just give in, so he accepted the treat. "Huh? Didn't I tell you?"

"Exquisite. Perfectly cooked... and so much flavor."

"Good. We'll share it."

Paling at the suggestion, Neal rose from the couch and strode to the windows. He couldn't see much except the glow from buildings and traffic, but at a distance his blood began to cool, as did his hunger for a delicacy far more enticing than anything on Peter's dinner plate. True, his stomach was empty and on the verge of audibly complaining, but he needed the respite and the distraction of the light show beneath him more than he needed food. "Neal?"

"I'm fine."

Peter's response came from just over Neal's shoulder.

"No you aren't. What's up?"

"Eating together... just the two of us... it's a dangerous proposition, Peter."

"Dangerous? I don't understand."

Neal spun and faced his handler, but backed off a step or two at the same time.

"I'm saying our first kiss almost happened in your dining room, not in that alley. If I hadn't found some reserve of... self-discipline..."

"Whoa, whoa. Hang on a second...you wanted to... that night? Guess I haven't been as clear about my feelings as I should have, huh? Look... as long as we're alone or it's us and El, you can kiss me anytime you want."

"Excuse me? You're being as careful about this as I am..."

"I was trying not to spook you or myself. This is 'Here There Be Dragons' country for me too, Neal. If you want more or you wanna shift gears... just say so and I'll do my damndest to keep up. If you need to back off to where we were before..."

"No. No, no, no..."

"It's okay if you do. Believe me, I'd understand. You're still overwhelmed with Kate and what happened and I won't exactly be shocked if..."

This time it was Neal who reached out to touch Peter's face.

"Peter... stop, okay? It's not Kate. You brought me through the worst of that weeks ago."

"I did?"

"Yeah... you did."

"You haven't said anything."

"It's not that easy with you, anymore. I keep going back and forth between wanting this, wanting us... and minor freak outs when I remember I don't know anything about it. The baseball analogies pretty much go right out the window..."

It took Peter a moment to catch on to Neal's reference.

"First base, second base... Okay, it doesn't necessarily have to be scrapped."

"It doesn't?"

"No. God, how do I put this delicately..."

"Why do you have to?"

Peter grinned slightly.

"I don't know. Bowing to your sophistication and genteel sensibilities?"

Neal arched his eyebrows and smiled, cueing Peter that his question was absurd. "Fine, so it's mostly a defense mechanism, I guess I knew that."

"Just be frank. Trust me, I can handle it."

"Alright. With a few little alterations, I think the basics of the system can be kept just like they are. First base is kissing..."

"Rounded that one already."

"Not completely, but I think we can finish it off before we head for second."

"Which would be petting above the waist." Neal furnished, looking mildly confused. "Not that either of us are equipped... I mean..."

"You'd be *really* surprised."

"El?"

"I thought there were no possibilities there, but... boy she showed me different."

"Speaking of the lovely Mrs. Burke, if we're doing this I have a condition. We have to call her beforehand and let her in on what's happening."

Peter's grin now shifted toward wicked and playful.

"I have a better idea." He offered, moving swiftly back to the sofa and powering up his laptop. After a few minutes, Neal strolled over and joined him. He was faintly shocked to see that Peter had initiated a video chat with El.

"Hon? Is something wrong?"

"It's fine. Neal is here. He... we..."

"A little bit of heat building, is there?"

Neal flushed and fought to keep meeting her eyes on the screen.

"There is. I wouldn't do anything about it without making sure you knew. I suggested a phone call, but your better half apparently has kinks I never suspected..."

Peter grimaced and whacked Neal in the stomach lightly with the back of one hand.

"Ooof." The younger man shot back wryly.

"Quit with the jokes or I'll put some power behind the next one."

"Joke?' El interjected merrily. "Have you forgotten who you sleep with most nights? I could tell him some stories..."

"Don't you dare."

"We'll see. I really appreciate the consideration, Neal. Whatever you two were thinking, go ahead. Just forget I'm even here."

"Like that'll happen. You know, I really just wanted to get your approval before we... moved to second base. You don't *have* to stick around..." Neal replied.

"Are you kidding? I missed the big moment in the alley, I'm not giving up this chance."

"Damn..."

Peter turned his body partially to the left so that when Neal emulated him they would be facing each other.

"Neal... c'mon, kid, look at me. We'll never make it to the Home Run Derby if we balk at her watching us kiss and... whatever else."

"True."

"Okay, then. We set the laptop on the coffee table... Can you see okay, honey?"

"Perfectly." El confirmed.

"Great. Nah. Look at me, Neal. Turn a little this way... there. Put the computer out of your mind for now. Let's just focus on us, hmmm?"

Neal nodded and leaned in, bracing one hand on the sofa. Peter followed suit and soon their lips touched again. This time, knowing they had privacy and all the time they might want, Peter opened up and offered Neal access. The younger man hesitated for a moment, but soon he accepted the invitation and began seeking out the warm depths of Peter's mouth while weaving his arms around his handler's neck and reveling in the strength of the arms that gradually moved around his lower back. When they finally eased apart several minutes later, both men were breathing with effort.

"Okay... so is first behind us now?" Neal joked faintly.

"Ten miles back and fading fast. That was incredible. You... are an amazing kisser." Peter responded, reaching out to disengage Neal's tie and slowly open the buttons on his shirt one by one.

"What..."

"How could you think I'd ask you to do this for me and not give back? Besides... I know how it feels and what I like. What I can't wait for... is to see your face when you find out how good it is."

Neal extended a hand, almost touching the sash on Peter's robe. "Don't worry. T-shirt and boxers underneath."

"Good." Neal breathed, obvious relief coloring his tone as he loosened the white garment. "That's good, because third base is a *really* long way off..."

"I know. I know and it's just fine with me." Peter agreed as he slid the final button free. "My God... you're a damn classical statue, Neal. The definition... I have to admit I'm seriously jealous."

"After we finish with this case, I'll teach you my workout routine, I swear. Right now..."

"Yeah... sorry. Another kiss?"

"Oh, absolutely."

This time, Peter's hands settled flat against the skin just under Neal's collarbone. The younger man leaned into the tingling warmth and went back in search of Peter's tongue.

"You ready?" The older man asked a little while later, taking a moment to catch his breath.

"I am. Go on... do it..." Neal murmured. The first contact of warm thumbs on his nipples caused a shudder to visibly run through Neal from the crown of his head to his knees. He then dropped his chin to his chest. Blindly, he sought out the hem of Peter's thin cotton shirt and worked his fingers underneath. The skin contact drew a surprised noise from Peter, followed by a low chuckle.

"Nice, kiddo. Can you... yeah, like that. I'm sensitive, so... that's it. Lightly... lightly. Hell. So good, Neal... so good."

"Peter... I'm... I'm getting..."

"I know. Just being near you like this is enough to..."

"I can't. We said... not yet." Neal panted. Peter nuzzled his neck and murmured against the skin.

"No... we said full exposure and touching weren't in the cards tonight. If we're wound up enough to orgasm... without crossing that line..."

"God... I have to stop soon. Another minute... and I won't have a choice." Neal protested, his fingers slowly ceasing their motion. Peter lifted his head and gazed at the beautiful young man trembling under his touch. Though it came perilously close to breaking him into a thousand pieces, he brought his hands up and raised Neal's face as well.

"Whatever you want, sweetheart. Whatever you want."

Peter watched intense confusion flash across Neal's expression.

"I... Peter. You mean that. I can see you actually mean that."

"Sure I do."

Neal paused another few heartbeats then slid one hand around the back of Peter's head, tugging down gently until his lover's mouth met his right nipple. Peter sighed and began licking and suckling. A minute or two later, Neal began to quake and jolt. Feeling the young man's release hit, Peter was only a few seconds behind. Once they were both still again, Peter kissed Neal softly on the lips. "Are you okay?"

"Mmm. I'm perfect. You would've stopped. If I'd asked for it... you would have."

"Hey, us means more than one person. You're an equal in this and you have rights."

"And responsibilities?"

"Eventually. That'll be a conversation all three of us have to actually be in the same room for."

Neal startled faintly and looked at the computer screen. Head tipped back, El was fanning herself vigorously with a manila folder.

"I think we broke her." He commented wryly.

"Not even close. She's just temporarily off-line." Peter countered. "You go clean up. I'll order another dinner."

\---------------------------------------------------

TBC.....


	11. 11

Journey 2 H --- part 3

\---------------------------

POST-EP : THE HOSPITAL ROOM

Neal resolutely stood in the doorway, refusing to enter or respond even when Peter hoarsely greeted him.

“Hey bud. Neal? What’s wrong?”

Eventually, El rose from the hard plastic chair she’d occupied for the last hour or two and approached Neal, grasping his hands to tug him over the threshold.

“C’mon in, sweetheart. It’s okay.”

“No. I mean… I just had to see… to know he’ll be alright. I’ll go and leave you two alone.”

“Are you kidding? You have as much right to be here as I do. You’re part of us, now. Nothing changes that.”

“El…”

“If you hadn’t fought to get to Peter, I’d be planning his funeral, Neal. I want you here.” She stated with finality, slightly softening the passionate declaration with a gentle smile. After another few moments of hesitation, the young man finally nodded and moved hesitantly to Peter’s side. El followed, but sat on the bed, leaving Neal the only chair. He dropped into it slowly, carefully, as if he feared that his knees would fail him, and stared at Peter for a long time. When he spoke at last, the words weren’t what his handler was expecting, but, despite still feeling like his batteries needed recharging, Peter was able to go with the flow, as he almost always could with Neal.

“You scared the hell out of me, Agent Burke.”

“Yeah… sorry about that.” Peter replied with a weary grin.

“God. If…”

“What? If what, Neal?”

“You know.”

“I think I do. Can you say it, though? For both of us?”

Neal swallowed harshly and ran one hand through his hair before replying.

“If I’d lost you, too… if you’d died in my arms because of a stupid mistake… I would’ve vanished into thin air before anybody thought to look for me.”

Peter sighed, as though intensely relieved, closed his eyes and breathed out a quiet response, one that deeply confused his charge.

“Thank you.”

“What? I don’t understand.”

“For so long I’ve told myself that if some case, something I asked you to do for the Bureau… I’d quit. Even after the last few weeks, I couldn’t be absolutely sure you felt the same way. Knowing you do… hearing you say it out loud…”

Peter let the thought trail off into silence, confident Neal understood what his constricted throat forced him to leave unsaid. Neal leaned forward, resting his upper body on the bed and his head on Peter’s chest. El laid one hand one his back and the other on Peter’s arm, supporting them as they found emotional release together, just as they had at the airport. As she had from the start, she agonized over what would happen if her husband’s superiors discovered how radically the relationship between Peter and Neal was changing, but for the moment she shoved the worry aside, basking in the sense of bonds tightening and growing stronger. The three of them were good for each other; were meant to be. That was the thing to focus on. The future would bring what it would bring. As a family, they would weather it and come out the other side better and closer than ever. Still, she sent up a silent prayer for guidance in making it happen.

\-------------------------------------------------------

END this part. See you soon with a re-vamp of the second half of S-2…


End file.
